The air was thick with the scent of incense and freshly turned earth as mourners gathered under the gray afternoon sky. The Castillo estate, draped in mourning, had never felt more suffocating. Torres Castillo, the king of the mafia, was dead, and now the family stood on the precipice of chaos.
Ricardo Castillo stood at the forefront, his expression unreadable as the priest muttered the final blessings over his father's grave. Every eye was on him and some filled with grief, others with expectation. He knew what they wanted. They wanted a leader, a successor and a new king.
But the moment of mourning shattered when the lawyer cleared his throat, stepping forward to read Torres Castillo's will.
"In accordance with the final wishes of Torres Castillo, all properties, businesses, and assets will be inherited by his biological son… Ricardo Castillo."
The silence that followed was deafening. Then came the outburst.
Emiliano's chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet, his face contorted with rage. "This is a lie," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "A goddamn setup." His eyes burned into Ricardo, then flicked to Tiara Castillo, his father's wife, but not his mother. "You planned this," he growled. "Both of you. You made sure my father erased me."
Tiara's expression remained cold, unreadable, but Ricardo saw the flicker of unease in her eyes.
"This is what he wanted," Ricardo said evenly, though his grip tightened around the armrest of his chair.
Emiliano let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer, fists clenched. "Bullshit." His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "You think you can take everything from me? You think I'll just stand here and let you become king?"
Ricardo's patience snapped. He stood, shoulders squared, his gaze like ice. "You were never his heir, Emiliano. You knew this day would come."
The words were a blade to Emiliano's pride. With one last furious glare, he turned and stormed toward the exit. "This isn't over," he called over his shoulder. "The Castillo family is divided from this moment forward. And when I come back, I'm coming for war."
As the heavy doors slammed behind him, the room remained thick with tension. But before Ricardo could even take a breath, another voice cut through the silence.
"There's one more condition."
Ricardo turned sharply to the lawyer, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
"To fully claim your inheritance," the man continued, adjusting his glasses, "you must marry Elisa Rivera."
For a moment, Ricardo thought he had misheard. Then the weight of the words settled over him, a slow-burning anger rising in his chest.
"Elisa Rivera?" His voice was deceptively calm.
"Yes. Your father arranged the marriage before his passing. Without this union, you cannot access the full extent of your wealth and power."
The room seemed to close in around him. Ricardo clenched his jaw, his heart pounding with frustration. It wasn't just about power, it was about control. His father was gone, but even in death, he was still pulling the strings.
His life. His choices. His goddamn future.
Without another word, Ricardo turned on his heel and walked out. Antonio and his men followed without question.
The Castillo estate wasn't his prison.
And if he was going to claim his throne, he would do it on his own terms.
Ricardo Castillo sat in the dimly lit study of his estate, the weight of his father's last command pressing heavily on his shoulders. The room, once dominated by Torres Castillo's presence, now felt suffocatingly empty. Ricardo had spent his life preparing to take over his father's empire, but he never expected that his inheritance would come with conditions.
Marriage.
Antonio, his most trusted man, stood before him, a thick file in his hands. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"You asked me to look into her," he said, placing the folder on the desk. "Elisa Rivera. Twenty-four. She runs a small event planning business. No criminal ties, no known affiliations with our world. She's completely unaware of what her father did."
Ricardo exhaled slowly, running a hand over his jaw. Elisa Rivera. The woman he had never met properly, yet now she was the key to everything he had worked for.
"She's the price I have to pay," he murmured, more to himself than to Antonio.
Antonio hesitated. "Your father made this deal long before he died. He believed it was necessary to secure his empire. Elisa's father betrayed him, and this was his way of balancing the scales."
Ricardo let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "So, I'm just supposed to go to her family, announce my claim, and drag her into a world she knows nothing about?" His voice was laced with frustration. "And if I refuse? What then?"
Antonio met his gaze. "Then you lose everything. The wealth, the power, the empire, none of it will be yours."
Silence stretched between them. Ricardo clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. His father had set this in motion, ensuring that even in death, he dictated his son's future.
After a long moment, Ricardo pushed himself up from the chair, adjusting the cuffs of his suit with slow, deliberate movements.
"Prepare the car," he said coolly.
Antonio gave a curt nod. "What should I tell them?"
Ricardo's jaw tightened as he grabbed his coat, his dark eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"Tell them I'm coming to claim what's mine."
He wasn't sure if he
meant the empire or the woman.